She smiles at me shyly. “And now he’s helping you.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “I’m not telling Ryan that I fucked his brother.”
Even though I came close to doing exactly that.
Red blooms across her cheeks, her face turning into mortification.
“That wasn’t what I did.” She laughs nervously. “When I broke it off with Ryan, I decided to have Mako there in case Ryan tried to attack me. And that’s exactly what happened. Mako stopped it and Ryan made assumptions. And well, neither of us corrected him, to be honest. It was an easy out after that. Ryan looked at me as if I was the Bubonic Plague, and just like that"—she snaps her fingers— “he no longer wanted anything to do with me. I was free.”
Huh.
Maybe I could’ve taken that route into consideration if I hadn’t done what I did already. That probably would’ve been a lot less messy.
“I don’t think Ryan’s going to be an issue for me anymore,” I say distractedly, my stare far away as I picture a scene in front of me—Mako dressed in white armor and deflecting Ryan's punch with a sword. It’s comically arousing, to be quite honest.
“What do you mean?” Her question draws me back to reality. It takes my brain a second to catch up, and even longer to process the question. What does she mean, what do you mean? “Why wouldn’t Ryan be a problem anymore?” she prompts when I stare at her with confusion.
Ah, fuck. I said that out loud.
My heart pounds as I try to figure out how the hell to answer this. Do I say Ryan left me for his secretary? No, she’d never believe that. Ryan doesn’t just let go of his possessions, even when he has grown tired of them. Keeping his victims under his trap means less of chance of us coming out and ruining his reputation.
Funny how he was so scared of me ruining his reputation when he set himself up for that all by himself. Scorned women don’t forget.
“I killed him.”
You dumb bitch, River.
I close my eyes in resignation, frustrated that I can’t keep my trap shut. I need to tell her that was a lie. I didn’t mean it—I only want to. She’d understand that, wouldn’t she? Yet, something inside of me doesn’t allow my mouth to open and take it back.
I keep my eyes closed, waiting for the bombardment of questions and hysteria, maybe a few why would you do that-s and you must confess-es. The last thing I expect is to feel soft lips brush across my own. My eyes pop wide open in astonishment. And there she is. Her sweet little face—so close she looks like a cyclops—angled opposite of mine as she kisses me softly.
I don’t respond right away, instead staring at her conjoined eye as I try to process that Alison is actually kissing me. She peeks open an eye—or maybe both, I can’t tell—but doesn’t pull away. I like that she’s bold enough not to pull away. I like that she’s waiting for me to register the kiss first before I decide how to react. And I like that she’s kissing me.
Gently, I kiss her back, moving my lips against hers sensually. Eyes locked in a strange, intimate gaze, our lips explore slowly. Something like relief makes her eyes droop, and just like yawning after someone else, my eyes start to fall, too.
Within seconds, both of our eyes are closed tight as our mouths grow bold. The first touch of her tongue against mine feels like satin on fire. Her hands slide into my mane of curls while one of my hands wrap around the back of her neck and beckons her closer.
It feels different. Good. Amazing, actually. Unlike anything I’ve felt before. I won’t dare compare it to the feelings Mako elicits in my body and soul. No, not when this feels amazing in a completely different way. It doesn’t feel like two souls colliding and falling in love—it feels like healing.
I make the first move, pushing it to see how far this will go. My hand grips her thigh, pausing for only a moment before slowly travelling upwards until I meet the juncture of her hip. A soft moan reaches my tongue. I almost smile in response. The notion is completely wiped from my thought process the second I feel her hand slide down my chest and cup my breast.
My nipple instantly tightens into a sharp bud, and that’s all the encouragement both of us need. Everything happens quickly. Our clothes are thrown off in a rush, and my naked body is sliding atop hers. Our hands are touching everywhere, silk undulating against silk as the passion starts to overwhelm us.
She flips me over, surprising me with her dominance. Her soft body slides against mine, and I relish in the feeling of her skin against mine. The ends of her hair tickle my shoulders as she leans over me. She leans down and softly kisses my lips once more. The kiss doesn’t linger. Her lips move down my chin and neck, licking and sucking as she travels further south.
She pauses long enough to lick at one of my nipples, enveloping the rose pink bud in her mouth. I moan, arching my back into her touch. With a pop, she lets go of my nipple and continues her path. Her pink tongue pokes out, the tip trailing along my flat stomach, dipping into my navel and finally to my pussy.
I’m not ashamed of how drenched I am. Alison is hot, there’s no denying it. When she settles between my legs, I lift up on an elbow, too fascinated by her to not give myself a full view. She peeks up at me through hooded eyes. Such innocence.
I never thought I’d use the word, but it’s the only thing I can think when looking down at her, mouth poised over my pussy. Beautiful. I’m taking back the meaning of that word and giving it to Alison Lancaster.
Because, fuck, she is beautiful.
The first touch of her tongue makes my head fall back. It’s tentative, warm, wet. It feels amazing, and I need more.
“Alison,” I gasp, when her tongue flattens and she licks the entire expanse of my center. I shudder, rolling my hips to meet her sinful mouth. When my head falls forward once more and I give her my eyes again, she’s already looking up at me with a little satisfied smirk on her face.
My lip is trapped beneath my teeth so hard, I’m close to breaking skin. She keeps licking and sucking until the orgasm is building quickly, cresting and eventually pushing me over the edge. My legs trap her head against my pussy, happy to drown her in my juices as I ride out the wave of euphoria.
She lifts up, licking her lips like a wicked little witch. I pull her up and keep guiding her until her pussy is hovering over my face. Without hesitation, I lap her up, giving her the same treatment she gave me. It doesn’t take long for her to come, screaming my name as her own juices slide down my cheeks.
We become a blur of movement afterwards. I lift up and nearly tackle her. Our kissing is revived, the desperation in our tongues palpable.
I don’t even realize we’ve fallen into the perfect position until I feel my pussy slide against hers. We both freeze, mouths parted and eyes wide as the sensation completely overloads our system. In tandem, we both release moans. Her eyes roll as my hips do, creating a feeling so powerful and wonton, I’m not sure how I’ll find my way down from it.
She lifts on her elbows just as I lean towards her, our lips finding the same sync our hips are moving in.
“River,” she moans into my mouth, letting me taste my name on her tongue. It tastes sweet, just like her. Our mouths break and her breath skitters across my nipple. The sensation of her warm mouth wrapping around the bud nearly sends me over the edge. Looking down at her, her hazel eyes look back up at me between a freckled nose. Her eyes glitter with excitement, despite the innocence on her face.
My eyes threaten to close as I moan her name in return. My hips move faster, and her mouth falls away from my breast, searching for my mouth once more. I’m all too happy to give in to her silent demand.
Sweat breaks across my forehead as I feel my second orgasm building higher and higher, the pitch in our moans following suit.
My core clenches as the coil wounds tighter and tighter until it feels like I’m going to spontaneously combust. Within seconds, our orgasms peak and we're spiraling out of control. Our hands grapple desperately as we try to find something solid to hold onto as our bodies are completel
y swept away in waves of pure bliss. Wide eyes locked together while moans are ripped from our connected mouths.
It isn’t until I come down that I realize we were practically screaming. The sudden silence is deafening, despite our heavy breathing piercing the stillness.
We just had sex.
Because I told her I killed Ryan.
I roll off her and onto my back, both chests heaving. Both eyes staring at the ceiling in shock and disbelief. And maybe a little panic. Finally, I roll my head towards her and study her. I really look at her. Her big expressive eyes, long chestnut hair and the tiny freckles dotting her nose and cheeks.
My eyes travel down her body. A body that I got very well acquainted with. She’s thin, but curvy with full breasts and long legs. Freckles dot her shoulders and stomach, light brown against a tanned backdrop.
She’s beautiful. And a lot more complex of a girl than I gave her credit for.
She doesn’t meet my eyes, seemingly too scared to face the reality of what we just did. It feels like a needle pricks at my heart. Nothing major, but enough to hurt.
“Do you regret it?” she whispers, her voice hoarse. Tears well in her eyes, and I study her reaction with a morbid fascination. Is she crying because I fucked her or because I killed her ex-boyfriend?
“No,” I whisper, answering both questions.
A harsh breath releases from her chest, expelling all the tension in her body with it. Just like that, she turns to putty. And just like that, my heart warms again, relieved that she isn’t rejecting me. She turns on her side, facing me completely and tucking both hands under cheek.
“Me neither,” she says softly. A small tentative smile graces her swollen lips.
With my eyes locked to those lips, I ask, “Then why are you crying?”
She chuckles, wiping away a stray tear before resuming her position.
“I honestly don’t know. That was… a lot to take in. And the fact that we basically celebrated you murdering our abuser by having sex is kind of fucked up.” When I give her a droll look, she smiles sheepishly and corrects herself. “Okay, really fucked up.” She shrugs a shoulder. “But it felt good. It felt like closure."
I nod, comforted that we're on the same page. What we did wasn’t making love, or even simple fucking. We’re certainly never going to date. While there was mutual attraction, it was truly just moving on from a fucked-up situation we both got trapped in. Two souls connecting over something no woman should ever have to endure. It was liberation.
“Are you going to report me?” I ask quietly.
Her eyes never stray as she says, “No. You gave yourself and the future women who would’ve found themselves in Ryan's grip something I wasn’t capable of giving. He was never going to stop. Mako tried to, but no one believed him and Ryan knew too many powerful people. And I… I didn’t try enough. But you succeeded.”
“Freedom,” I whisper. She slowly nods her head, understanding in her eyes.
It’s been so long since I’ve tasted it on my tongue. It’s almost enough to overpower the taste of Alison’s pussy on my tongue.
THE HOUSE IS DEADLY silent.
Well. This part of the house is. Faint tendrils of yelling filter through the vents from the attic, but if I think loud enough, I can’t hear them. Sometimes I enjoy hearing them. I don’t know if that makes me a psychopath.
With my breeding, I suppose it was inevitable.
How many serial killers had fucked up childhoods? Probably more often than not. I’d fit the profile perfectly. Girl grows up in the slums, crackhead mother, absent no-name father, and raped by men which eventually led to a life of prostitution.
But I got out, didn’t I? Doesn’t that count for something? Even if I did turn into a murderer. Or I will soon enough at least.
A knock on the door seizes my heart. I tuck myself deep into the shadows, staring at the silhouette of a person standing outside the door.
I’m not expecting anyone. No one should be knocking on that door.
Another light knock taunts me. My rabid thoughts lead me down the rabbit hole. What if its Ryan’s work, looking for him? No, no. It’s Saturday. He’s only been in the attic since last night. Monday, though. What will I do Monday? Ryan won’t show up. His dad will wonder, call him probably. Ryan won’t answer, and then his father will come looking. How the hell am I supposed to look Matt in his face and lie to him? Guess I should’ve thought about that before I got myself into this clusterfuck.
Another knock pulls me away from that train of thought.
Is it the police? Did Ryan get ahold of a phone? No… I hid is phone in our bedroom already. Couldn’t be that. Just a minute ago, I checked on him, making sure his body was securely hung up around the wooden beam and the knots around his wrists were still tight. He didn’t escape, and I’m confident no one can hear him yelling. We live in a mansion for god’s sake, and the attic isn’t even located on the side of the house closest to the street. Surely, if someone could hear screams coming from inside the house, someone would’ve saved me already.
I laugh at that thought. People suck. It’s entirely possible no one would’ve saved me.
“Hello?” a soft voice rings out. My head snaps in the direction of the front door. It sounds like the devil. It must be. Who else could it be? The devil has come to collect me for me for the ultimate sin I’ve committed.
My breath disturbs the silence in short staccato stabs of air. I pinch my eyes shut when the knocking at my front door starts again. Maybe if my eyes are closed, the knocking will go away. Maybe the devil behind it will disappear.
Shaking my head, I rub my eyelids with my pointer finger and thumb in frustration.
The devil isn’t going away.
My house is bathed in darkness and shadows, but I feel like I’m standing in a spotlight. Like an idiot, I’m standing directly in front of the door, at a loss of what to do. I thump my curled fist into my forehead, frustrated with myself. I wasn’t prepared for this. For any of this. I thought I had more time. Stupid of me to think I had something as precious as time when living with a monster.
What do I do what do I do what do I do?
Answer it.
No. I’ll never escape if I do.
What other option do I have? Hide?
Maybe it’ll work for a little while, but the devil will come back for me. Facing my demons head on is the only way.
Breathe lodges in my throat when I hear the voice. “I know you’re in there, I can see you.”
Fuck. That’s creepy. That’s literally the last thing anyone would want to hear.
Whose idea was it to get a door that’s nearly all glass? Of course, it’s frosted glass, but it’s also has a sickly pretty design that have ribbons of clear glass woven in.
I’m caught. There’s no turning back now.
Slowly, I make my way to the door, my bare feet lightly slapping across the wooden floor. Standing in front of the door, I just stare, praying that they’ll give up and leave. Another knock has me jumping out of my skin, this time loud and impatient. Jesus, was that really fucking necessary? My hand shakes as I raise it to the doorknob.
Just fucking open it.
So, I do. My gaze immediately drops down.
“Girl Scout cookies?”
Yup, still the fucking devil.
CRUNCH.
“You’re a fucked up bitch, you know that?” Ryan pants from his spot. He’s bloodied and bruised, his arms hanging from the ceiling with a rope. He’s naked save for a dirty pair of boxers hanging low on his hips. Little cuts mark his skin, most already caked with dried blood. Fresh blood trickles down his arms from the wounds around his wrists. I stare at it in fascination as I nibble on my cookie.
My other hand spins around the box cutter I’ve been using to slice open his skin. Each scream gives me a small thrill. Is this what he felt when he lorded his power over me? When he beat and raped me? I admit, it can be quite the high.
I hold out the cookie, my arm stra
ight with one eye closed as I position the cookie over Ryan’s head. “You know, you both are the devil,” I murmur, concentrating on getting the image just right. I smile when I do, so it looks like a man with a cookie for a head. “You. And these cookies.”
“Hey!” he shouts, spittle flying from his lips. “Fucking listen to me!” My arm drops and my eyes travel back to his. They’re wide with adrenaline, potent fear and rage swirling in his ugly blue eyes. If looks could kill…
Crunch.
Fuck. These are addicting.
“Are you going to explain to me why the fuck you’re doing this? Huh? Fucking tell me, River!”
I arch a brow, unimpressed. “Last time I checked, I don’t have to answer a goddamn thing if I don’t want to. And oh, I almost forgot to tell you.” I snap my fingers at him, shooting him the gun signal with a filthy smile. “I fucked your ex-girlfriend.”
His eyes widen briefly before they shrink into slits. “You’re lying.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “She’s got a freckle right here”—I point right above my hip— “and a freckle right here,” I say, pointing to my left inner thigh next, upwards close to my center. His eyes stare holes into my hand, his lip curling in disgust as he seethes. Anyone could’ve seen the freckle on her hip, but the freckle on her thigh? Well, I would’ve had to see her naked for that one.
His whole body begins to shake as his fury begins to overwhelm him.
“She’s awfully good, too,” I chirp. “Came harder than I ever came with you.”
“Shut the fuck up!” he roars, attempting to charge at me. Hard to do when only your toes are touching the plastic-covered floor. Which, by the way, is slick with his blood. He doesn’t find purchase despite his comical attempts. In the end, he ends up flailing like one of those inflatable things outside of car dealerships.
I laugh and he grows angrier.
“Let me go right fucking now, River!” he roars, letting his body sink with defeat, though his attitude certainly hasn’t caught up yet.
Shallow River Page 24
